


DIGGING YOUR WAY UNDERGROUND

by AgnesClementine



Series: CAUGHT IN A LANDSLIDE [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Gen, JUST, M/M, Self-Indulgent, The Author Regrets Nothing, Weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 01:10:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17172986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgnesClementine/pseuds/AgnesClementine
Summary: Lio clears his throat.' We should talk. You don’t know me, but I know you. It’s complicated.''I’m your son.'“I want in.” He blurts out instead.****************************A self-indulgent thing that took over my mind. Basically, I wrote into existence an honest to God Coldwave 'wacky scientific experiment' child.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is very likely going to be a series. And it's weird, I know.
> 
> Let me know what you think and enjoy! :)

If Lio was the type for long, winded, _monologue-ing_ origin speeches, he’d never get to the end of the story. And he really has no time for that, his feet carrying him over hardwood floor and cigarette smoke and alcohol fumes mixing in the air. So, the short version. A fanatic scientist genius. Mysterious funds. Laboratory. DNA samples theft and years of experimentation. Him. Voila.

He generally tries not to think about that too much. And this, too. Because the more he ponders on it, the more he realizes how bad the idea is. It’s awful, a total disaster.

His feet don’t slow in their stride even as he chants under his breath, “This is a bad idea, this is a very, very bad idea.”

But if he’s anything then it’s compulsive and he _can’t go back_ after the stunt he pulled.

He can see them clearly now, sat in the corner of this bar, backs to the wall, expressions unreadable. He cracks his knuckles. Like an adult he is, he can admit to himself that he’s getting cold feet. He’s chickening out. Great.

Chickening out means turning around, which means going back, which means a bus ride back to Michigan and he had enough bus rides to last him a lifetime.

He shakes his head. He’s thinking too much.

He brushes shoulders with a waitress, apologizes, and continues in his course. He goes over his lines. _I’m Lio_ , he thinks. _You’re Mick Rory and Leonard Snart?_ \- because he doubts admitting that he did his homework on them would help his case. _You remember being admitted to a hospital here in Central City 21 years ago?_

“No, that’s creepy.” He mutters to himself.

He stops in front of their table, stomach twisting. He, ah, he blanks out.

Two pairs of eyes rise to look at him. They narrow once they land on his face. He starts counting how long until they either point their guns at him or shoo him away.

Neither happens.

Leonard Snart, his spitting image, arches an eyebrow at him. “You need something?” He drawls with an accent Lio can’t fully place.

Lio clears his throat. _We should talk. You don’t know me, but I know you. It’s complicated_.

_I’m your son_.

“I want in.” He blurts out instead.

Leonard’s eyebrows rise further, joined by Mick’s. Lio carefully keeps his face as panic- free as possible.

“You want in?” Leonard repeats slowly.

Lio nods. This is bluffing. He can do bluffing; he’s great at bluffing. “Yeah, I want to join the crew.” He shrugs.

“There’s no crew. Beat it.” Mick grumbles and goes back to ignoring him in favor of rolling a match over his gloved knuckles.

_Rude_. He makes a face at that. At least now he knows where he got that part of his personality.

Leonard is still watching him analytically. Lio notes- only a smidge hysterically- that they haven’t brought up their uncanny similarity.

“You look awfully familiar,” _he’s spoken too soon_ , “have we meet before?”

Lio chuckles, “I just, ah, have one of those faces.” He brushes off with a wave of his hand.

“Of course,” Leonard says suspiciously, but lets the matter drop.

Lio relaxes subtly and drops into a chair opposite to them. “So?”

“’So’ what?”

“Am I in?” He asks. He didn’t go all this way just to get a metaphorical door slammed in his face.

“No offense, kid, but we generally don’t work with someone who’s quite so green as you are,” Leonard tells him.

“What?” He bristles.

“Means we don’t work with kids who just got out of diapers.” Mick pipes up. “Or kids, period.”

Lio is really starting to see similarities between Mick and himself.

“Hey. I’m not a kid. And you have no idea how ‘ _green_ ’ I am.” He says seriously. They literally don’t know anything about him.

Leonard crosses his arms over his chest, lounging in his chair and Mick grunts doubtfully.

“Look, kid-“

“I do have a name, you know. It’s a thing.” He cuts Leonard off.

“And what would it be?”

“Lio.”

“Lio?” Leonard asks after exchanging a look with Mick.

“What kinda name is Lio?” Mick adds.

Lio rolls his eyes, “It’s a nickname.” And much better than his full first name.

“Look, Lio, we’re not looking for new members right now. Kinda booked.” Leonard says flippantly.

Lio knows for a fact that they’re not.

“One job,” he says, “and then you can determine how green I am.”

Leonard gives him a long, calculating look. Lio can’t read his eyes and it makes him dig a thumb in the flesh of his palm under the table.

His heart skips when Leonard lifts up a finger at him.

“One job,” he says, “if you mess up, you’re out.”

  * ●●●●



Lio is not sure what to do for a few days after that. Unless wait for the call from Leonard.

He somehow doubts it’s gonna come, even though he watched Leonard typing his phone number in his own phone. Especially after he hears about a heist that sounds suspiciously like them on the police scanner.

He kicks his feet up on the coffee table in the motel room he rented, and listlessly chews on the maki he ordered. Yeah, he’s gonna have to do something about that.

  * ●●●●



They’re back at Saints & Sinners a week later, and Lio waits until they finish their drinks and leave to get up himself and follow them. They walk through narrow, winding alleys, perfect for losing a tail, but Lio has his own tricks and he can tell they don’t actually think they’re being followed. They’re just paranoid.

They end up in an apartment building and Lio trails after them, hidden in the shadows, until they enter one of the apartments on the third floor.

He gives them a few moments to recuperate and then walks over to the door and knocks.

Hopefully, he won’t get shot.

Mick opens the door, his eyebrows climbing to his hairline as he takes him in.

“What the fuck,” he says at last.

“Who is it?” Leonard asks from inside and soon appears behind Mick. He gives Lio a carefully blank- if once more calculating- look.

“Hi,” Lio says.

“I don’t recall giving you this address,” Leonard observes coldly.

Lio allows himself a grin, flipping a piece of paper in his pocket. “I guess I’m not as green as you thought,” he responds, filled with self-satisfaction at their expressions, and takes the sticky note out of his pocket, sticking it to the doorframe.

He points at his number scrawled on it, “So you can let me know about that job, since you clearly lost it accidentally,” he says knowingly and leaves, basking in their speechlessness.


	2. The Job

He’s hiding, most of the time. It’s kind of a requirement, actually, with the whole ‘ran off against all orders and is now a fugitive of sorts’ situation he created for himself. So he watches TV, sleeps, eats, wanders around the city when he deems it safe and generally tries to keep a low profile.

It makes his life very boring.

And then the call comes.

  * ●●●●



The warehouse is not as rundown as Lio thought it would be. There’s a fine layer of dust covering the floor when Mick leads him through it, but no garbage like he expected.

“So, what’s the job?” He asks.

“Snart will tell you,” Mick grunts and keeps walking without a word.

Well, Lio definitely didn’t get his _tongue-tied-ness._

“Right. Of course,” he mutters to himself and hurries after him.

Leonard is in one of the bigger rooms, leaning over a table that Lio is sure didn’t come with the, uh, space. He’s writing down something, alternating between three different sheets of paper and a building's blueprints. He doesn’t look up when they come in, and Mick immediately leaves him behind in favor of trudging to one of the corners and starting to tinker with… whatever that is.

“You’re on time,” Leonard observes. Somehow it doesn’t sound quite as complimentary as it should. Lio refers from frowning and shrugs.

“You told me when to come here, so here I am. What am I exactly doing here?” He asks.

“You wanted in, now you’re in.”

“ _In the warehouse?_ ” He asks only half joking, leaning against a dusty crate.

That gets Leonard to throw a glance at him over his shoulder. He eyes him for a second, then straightens and turns to properly scowl at him. Oh great. They’ve seen each other for all of 15 minutes over the course of the last three weeks and Leonard already can’t stand him.

Lio scratches the back of his head.

“If you want in on the crew, there are rules,” Leonard starts and, oh, he’s about to get a crew shovel talk. “We don’t leave a crew member behind- never. As long as you’re a part of this crew, you listen to me. And if you want out,” Leonard takes a gun out of his waistband and sets it on the table, “you’re really gonna be out. Understood?”

Lio eyes the gun for a second before his eyes meet Leonard’s, “Understood.”

_He’s in._

  * ●●●●



He’s a driver.

Well, he’s a driver _after_ he does the recon of the place with Mick.

“I just want to make sure I have all the right information,” Leonard had said before Mick dragged him after himself.  No sticky fingers or rash decisions.

Lio can appreciate the cautiousness, though it feels more like a fiery baptism. _No pun intended_ , he thinks, stealing a glance at Mick, who’s driving.

“If you fuck up,” Mick tells him when they stop at the red light, turning to look him in the eyes, “I’m gonna cut you.”

Lio holds his gaze, “And if you fuck up,” he responds, sick of them underestimating him, “ _I’m_ gonna cut _you._ ”

Mick looks torn between laughing at him or smacking his head on the dashboard, but the light turning green saves Lio from finding out which one of those reactions would win out.

  * ●●●●



They are literally crawling around the storage room- like full on, ‘hands and knees’ crawling- because the guard shifts changed. Lio makes a face at the mouse trap ( _efficient one at that_ ) underneath one of the shelves and then goes forward, rounding the corner to escape the beam of light from the guard’s flashlight.

He doesn’t know where Mick is, except that he’s in this room (hopefully, it would be fucking dumb to split now) and in a similar situation as Lio. He just had to get included when the main intel on the job goes down the drain, didn’t he?

His arm gets caught in a grip and pulled to the side. His heart skips, balance askew, and he lands soundlessly on his ass.

Mick pushes him in that bit of open leg space of the office desk and then squeezes in next to him. Lio is not sure how they manage it- he himself is pretty tall, but lanky, but Mick is built like a tank and definitely takes up more space- but Lio is happy he’s not alone anymore. However god-awfully sappy that sounds.

There are footsteps on his left, a clear _click- squeak_ of shoe soles on the linoleum floor and he stills, barely breathing.

A pair of the same click- squeak shoes appears in front of them, the beam of light _this close_ to shining on them and Lio goes taut, tense with anticipation. He’s ready to tackle the guard before he manages to report and call for the backup if necessary. Mick is still like a rock next to him, and just as tense.

The guard turns on his radio. The static fills the air and Lio feels his pulse beating in his fingertips.

“All clear,” the guard reports- and walks out.

Mick shimmies out of their hideout with an almost soundless groan and Lio stretches, still shoved into the corner. His limbs feel like jello. He lets out a breath.

“Let’s go before the new round starts,” Mick tells him. He whispers, but it still sounds gruff and too loud.

“We have to go right,” Lio responds, crawling out and rising to his feet.

At Mick’s questioning look, he explains, “He went right, so we can follow him instead of having a blind date with the new guard.”

“Right,” Mick responds and slips out into the hallway. Lio takes a deep breath and follows him.

  * ●●●●



“Well, that went well,” Lio comments once they back in the car.

Mick is looking at him with a strange expression on his face. It’s not _angry-ish_ per say, so it’s throwing Lio off a bit.

“What?”

Mick narrows his eyes. “You sure we didn’t meet before?”

Lio chuckles again, drums his fingers on the dashboard to distract Mick from the lump he swallows. “Yep. I’m not from around here, don’t know how we could meet.” He says.

Mick just grunts in response and starts driving.

  * ●●●●



“How did it go?” Leonard asks as soon as they return. He’s still pouring over the blueprints.

Mick hums. “Shifts changed. Half an hour earlier.” He informs Leonard.

They have a silent conversation of sorts, head tilts and subtle expression changes and something must show on Mick’s face because Leonard turns to Lio and says, “Well, congrats. Maybe you’re not as bad as I thought.”


	3. The Job pt.2

The job is not actually due to until one more week, and the time spent waiting Leonard uses to adjust his plan- now that the shifts have changed, it needs some tweaking- and Mick uses it to, well, do whatever it is he’s doing. Lio usually finds him tinkering with the car and other machinery parts, engines, and similar things while Black Sabbath plays in the background in surprisingly decent volume.

“Snart can’t hear himself think if I turn it up louder,” Mick tells him one day when Lio brings him his burger and a beer.

His role in this part of the planning process doesn’t occur to him until he’s waiting in a line for their lunch, a couple of bills Leonard shoved in his hand fisted in his pocket. “Holy fuck,” he says to himself, “I’m the delivery boy.”

The woman next to him sends him a disproving glare, covering her child’s ears, but Lio more or less numbly rattles off his order and hands over the money when it’s ready.

It’s unbelievable. In all of Lio’s life- He-

Out of all things, they make him an _errand boy_.

He picks up sushi for himself and plans out a little chat he wants to have with them when he gets to their ‘base’. Though, when he gets there, the place is empty.

The blueprints are still strewn across the table Leonard reserved for himself, and Mick’s corner is still a mess of tools and engine parts, so they- _hopefully_ \- haven’t ditched him.

“Delivery’s here,” he calls out sarcastically and sets the takeout bags on the table in the makeshift kitchen.

He had literally just sat down when a head pops out behind the corner. His eyes meet a pair of hazel ones and the woman raises one eyebrow at him. It’s a very Leonard gesture.

“Hello,” she says, walking into the room, “and who would you be?”

Lio blinks at her. “Uh, Lio. And you are?” He asks suspiciously.

She grins at him like he’s a puppy or something. As if to say, “Aw, shucks, you’re adorable.”

“Lisa,” she responds, taking a seat next to him.

Lisa, right. Leonard’s sister. And, ah, his aunt.

He takes his food out of the bag and starts opening the containers. This is not really a meeting he expected, but then again, he doesn’t know what he did expect. And if he’s being honest, he’s gonna take what he can get; it’s how he found himself in this situation in the first place, after all.

Becoming a part of the crew was not a plan, but realistically, it’s all he’ll get. Everything else would be chasing fairy tales.

“Tell me,” Lisa brings him out of his musing, “what are you doing here?”

Lio takes a salmon roll between his fingers and says, “I’m on the crew,” before popping it in his mouth.

Lisa observes him quietly. Lio chews and tries to ignore her.

“Aren’t you a bit too young?” She wonders.

“I’m legal,” Lio knows he looks a bit on the young side, alright? But they’re welcome to drop the ‘ _you have to be this tall for this ride_ ’ crap any time now.

Lisa hums, amused- and steals a salmon roll from the container. Lio scrunches his nose.

“Where are Mick and Leonard anyway?” He asks.

Lisa doesn’t have a chance to respond because they chose that moment to come in.

Mick visibly perks up at the sight of food and while Leonard is much more subdued, he also eyes the bags with anticipation.

“Lisa,” he says, nearing the table, “I see you’ve met Lio.” He observes. He doesn’t sound particularly pleased by it- but again, he rarely sounds pleased about anything.

Lisa hums again, “I have,” she turns to Lio, regards him curiously, “Lio is an interesting name. Short for anything?”

Lio groans internally. “Yeah.”  He shoves another salmon roll in his mouth in hopes he won’t have to answer the question that’s undoubtedly coming.

“So? What’s it short for?” Lisa presses.

Mick notices the sushi and steals a nigiri. _Seriously?_

“Stelio,” Lio responds painfully.

Lisa makes a squeal of delight at the same time as Mick stops with the food halfway to his mouth to say, “What?”

Lio sags in his seat, “Stelio.”

“How do you spell that?” Mick asks.

Leonard’s mask cracks into a thoughtful frown, “S-T-E-L-E-O?”

“I,” Lio corrects, “It’s L-I-O.”

“Heh,” Mick says, “thought you were a Leo all this time,” he shakes his head and shoves the nigiri in his mouth. He makes a noise of approval and steals another. _Seriously, what’s the point of different orders if everyone’s gonna steal his food?_

He holds it out to Leonard, who eyes it with distaste. “Thanks,” he drawls, “but I’ll stick to my order of cholesterol,” he plops down on a seat opposite to Lisa, so there’s one more seat left next to her for Mick, and takes his burger out of the bag. 

Mick shrugs and eats that one too, but then shifts his focus to his own lunch. Thankfully.

  * ●●●●



Two days before the heist, Lio notices a black van with Michigan registrations driving around the neighborhood. He doesn’t leave his room until it gets dark enough to screw with a person’s vision and even then he can’t wait to get back from the 24/7 store two blocks away.

He wakes up feeling strangely detached from everything and paddles into the bathroom to splash some water in his face. He meets his reflection in the mirror, takes in the wires spreading like spider webs underneath his skin in reds, blues, and greens. His eyes are like camera lenses, dead and soulless.

He jerks awake with a start, a shiver climbing up his spine. Gah, he hates those dreams. He sighs heavily, noting it’s 6 am. and goes to take a shower.

  * ●●●●



The van is parked across the street when he leaves the motel. It wasn’t there when he checked before leaving, so they must have just arrived.

He hitches the hood over his head and starts walking down the street. He cracks his knuckles in his pockets, the sounds of car doors opening and closing crystal clear despite the distance. Or maybe he’s just imagining it.

But he can feel it; eyes on him, like bugs crawling under his skin and burrowing under his flesh. He makes a sharp left into an alley and takes off in a run.

There’s shouting and, _oh, yeah_ , he’s _definitely_ being followed. The tires screech, the van speeding off, while a pair of footsteps pounds against the asphalt, chasing him. He rounds the corner and snatches a rusted, discarded crowbar from the ground on a whim. It’s cold against his palm and he hides it in his sleeve the best he can while still running. He can still hear the footsteps behind him and clenches his teeth when he forces himself to stop after rounding another corner. He digs his heels in and takes out the crowbar, gripping it in his hands like his life depends on it ( _spoiler alert: it does_ ).

He poises it over his shoulder like a golf club and when his tail rounds the corner, he swings it as hard as he can. The guy doesn’t really have a chance to realize what’s happening before he lands on his knees in shock. Well, that just won’t do.

“Aw, fuck it,” he tells to himself and swings once more with all of his might.

The guy collapses on the ground limply and Lio takes off again.

  * ●●●●



He loses the van about ten minutes later and ditches the crowbar in the back of some small, back alley diner.

Mick’s banging about with some car parts in the back of the warehouse when he arrives and Leonard is, as expected, still going over the plan.

_They know he’s in Central_ , he thinks after greeting them both.

And they won’t leave him alone now. So, he’s either going to have to find a way to trick them into believing he left, or that guy’s head won’t be the only head smashed in.


	4. The Job pt.3

“Don’t drive over the speed limit,” Leonard tells him, handing over the keys of a surveillance company van. Lio rolls his eyes and stifles a snort, catching Mick doing the same behind Leonard’s back.

They’ve gone over the plan- _in painstaking detail, may he add_ \- and are now as ready as they can be.

He finishes zipping up his uniform and takes his place behind the wheel. Leonard joins him in the passenger seat while Mick goes in the back. They have a cover; a routine security check-up that _accidentally_ didn’t get scheduled. _They had the lines to go over_.

Lio drives at the perfectly reasonable speed and parks in front of the building with all of the confidence of a flaunting peacock. _He’s got this_.

Leonard and Mick get out and Lio watches them talking to a guard at the door, already wondering if this won’t work when the guard nods and lets them in. Huh. That was easy.

He sits there alone for about three minutes before the guard knocks on his window. Lio cracks the knuckles on his index finger with his thumb and rolls it down.

“Yeah?” He asks faux casually.

“Hi,” the guard takes out a pack of cigarettes, “smoke break. Thought you might want some company while your colleagues work.”

_Oh, fuck_. A guard being here while they’re making their getaway is so not a part of the plan.

He chuckles to hide the panic. “Thanks, man.”

The guard offers him a cigarette. Lio takes it, getting an idea. He opens the van door and gets out.

At the guard’s curious look, he says, “They hate it when I get the smell of smoke in the van.”

“I know that. My guys are the same,” the guard- Reagan, his tag says- responds, jerking a thumb over his shoulder towards the building.

He lights his and then Lio’s cigarette.

Lio takes a drag, assessing the situation. The guy surely has a few pounds more than him. Not to mention at least some kind of martial arts training to get this job. Lio has the training of his own, but surprise and heavy objects have been his trusty helpers since, well, ever. He doesn’t exactly have either right now.

He blows out the smoke and shakes off the ash. _10 minutes at most_ , Leonard had said. It’s been 5. He’s got to think fast.

“You’ve been working this gig for a long time?” he asks.

“Nah,” Reagan responds, “a couple of months.”

“Oh, cool.”

“Yeah, I’m from the Star City, so this is kind of my only chance here.” Reagan continues.

_Well, that’s just too bad_.

Lio hums, looks over Reagan’s shoulder. The buildings are obstructing his view of the Central City's museum- Lio blinks.

He takes another careful drag of his cigarette as the idea blooms in the back of his mind.

“Hey,” he says, “you know where the city’s museum is? We’re supposed to go there next and I’m also kinda new here.” He says.

Reagan nods, “Yeah, man,” he says and turns around to point at those buildings, “just behind the-“

He cuts off suddenly when Lio grabs him in a sloppy choke hold, loose enough so he can free himself and turn around- and run straight into the van door that Lio slams open in his face. He drops down and Lio stomps at the cigarette that rolled out of his hand. He takes another drag of his own, turns when the door of the building opens.

Leonard and Mick walk out, stopping when they notice he’s outside. Their eyes drop to the guard sprawled over the ground. They look at Lio expectantly.

Lio throws his hands up. “He wanted to _chat_ ,” he says defensively.

Mick looks slightly impressed. Leonard’s expression is still unreadable.

“Throw the cigarette and let’s go.” He tells him.

Lio stomps it out, but tears off the filter part- because there’s no need for his DNA to be on the crime scene (Leonard already took care of the camera’s)- and shoves it into the pocket of his uniform.

  * ●●●●



There’s apparently a tradition, Lio finds out. They get back to the warehouse and Lio thinks this is the part where he finally gets out of this uniform and puts on his own pants, and then goes to his motel room (a new one, since they found him in the last one) to eat lunch leftovers and pass out in front of the TV.

But Mick stops him before he has a chance to leave the room.

“Where’d you think you’re going?” He asks.

Lio’s hand twitches on the handle. “Uh, home?” He asks uncertainly.

Mick snorts like he just told him a great joke. “Nah. You’re going drinking with us.”

“Mick,” Leonard says, putting on his jacket, “we don’t even know if he’s legal.”

These people-

“Like that stopped us,” Mick responds and claps a heavy hand on Lio’s shoulder.

Lio blanks out for a second and bites on a grin because _he’s making progress_.

  * ●●●●



They’re back at Saints & Sinners, shoved into that same corner where Lio met them. He’s drinking rum coke, barely able to hear himself over the drumming noise of music and people overlapping.

He’s sitting on the far right, with Leonard in the middle and Mick on his left, so when Mick nudges Leonard, it sends off a chain reaction that ends with Lio getting nudged as well and almost shoved off his chair.

Leonard clears his throat, “A deal is a deal,” he says, tipping his beer bottle towards Lio. “Welcome to the crew.”

Lio stares at the bottle for a second before the words fully register and then he grins.


End file.
